


20k

by kqmarches



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Introspection, character backstory, it's all very platonic but it could be shipping if you squint, season one spoilers, very very mild spoilers but nonetheless they are there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-12 23:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kqmarches/pseuds/kqmarches
Summary: Runner Five ends up trapped, alone and out of communication with Abel, twenty kilometers away. She has a lot to think about - maybe too much.





	1. Chapter One

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

Not again. 

It wasn’t supposed to turn into this kind of life-or-death situation. It wasn’t supposed to go south. It wasn’t supposed to lead to Five cowering in the dark, alone and trapped. It wasn’t supposed to be Five twenty kilometers from home with no clear path in sight.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Five digs in her pack for something to eat. She still has a few of the oat bars the kitchen has been experimenting with lately. They’re not bad, and they’re easy to tote around, so the runners have been happy to be taste testers each time the recipe is fiddled with. She downs one and takes a swig of water, hoping the energy from the food clears her mind a bit.

The run started easily enough. Just a perimeter check, then a dash out to a nearby sports store to bring back a bicycle. Bikes have been more in demand lately as the township grows, and some of the older kids have been put to work acting as sort of messengers between different parts of Abel. Bikes are simply more efficient than walking, with the added benefit that they can be loaded with heavier weights than most children can carry, plus the kids enjoyed riding them. It was a win all around - except for the part where they had to run out and bring a bike back one at a time in order to make this happen. It’s not the most convenient way to obtain something, but it’s the best way in current circumstances. 

Five had just gotten the bike when a pack of zombies started to make their way toward her. Then another. Then another. The only safe route away from them was also away from Abel, so she pedaled further and further and faster and faster...and then she hit a root, got thrown over the handlebars, and wrecked the bike beyond any repair she could do on the fly. Worse than that, though, was the realization that her headset had practically snapped in half upon impact. 

So, there she is. Once again lost in the forest, surrounded by threats, death at every turn...it would be an ordinary Tuesday for her if it weren’t for the fact that this time she doesn’t have Sam’s voice in her ear to keep her calm and give her hope. 

She is truly, profoundly, entirely alone out there. 

The thought makes her feel sick, but the thought of not at least  _ trying _ to get to safety made her feel sicker. She stands up, slings her pack over her shoulder, turns on her flashlight, and begins to run. 

And run. 

And run. 

She ran as fast as she could while still keeping a pace she could maintain, making as little noise as possible. Every breeze, every snap of a twig sent her heart jumping. Was that the rustling of an animal or a crawler? Was that a branch she scratched her leg on or had she just gotten infected by a zombie? Would the people at Abel ever know what happened to her? Would she go grey and kill friends or force them to kill her? 

Five gives each of her cheeks a sharp smack to focus herself and knock those thoughts out of her head. Nothing else matters but running home. 

Three kilometers down, by her estimate. 

She used to think in terms of miles, a lifetime ago. Sure, they used the metric system in track, but the general vocabulary of her home country was all inches and feet and miles. Miles per gallon. Five feet five inches. 26.2 miles. I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more. 

Four down. 

Her knees ache. She was already fatigued from the run and the biking and the general fleeing for her life, and now her knees are aching. Awesome. 

Five down. 

“Five down” has an ominous sort of tone out of context, when she thought about it. “Five down” would be the last thing she’d want to hear Sam saying, and yet she can imagine it. The exact way his voice would sound, the way it might crack. 

She delivers another slap to her face. Get it together. 

Her elbow knocks hard against a tree, the bark scraping and the whack sure to leave a bruise. She just hopes the sound wasn’t enough to alert any zombies nearby. 

Six kilometers. Six. Fourteen to go. 

When she was fourteen, she got her first job. Concessions at an ice skating rink. She made hot chocolate from a packet and put frozen mozzarella sticks into an industrial fryer for six bucks an hour. She used to love that job, actually. Sure, she came home greasy and smelling like cheap cleaning spray, but she could watch the skaters from behind the counter. Sometimes they were so graceful, flowing over the ice, balancing on a thin blade like it was nothing at all. They looked like they were flying. Sometimes they were terrible and fell a lot, but they usually laughed, and that was just as beautiful. 

Seven. 

A branch whips her in the eye and leaves a scratch all of a centimeter below her lash line. Too close. 

Eight. 

She has to stop. Just for a minute. Just to fix her shoe. It’s so dark here, even with the flashlight. She usually trusts her instincts and sense of direction, but even with her compass, she feels lost. It’s just so dark and quiet, too much of both, too oppressive. 

She runs. 

Nine down. Eleven to go. 

She misses listening to music on her runs. On the more mundane runs, Sam will occasionally pipe in Jack and Eugene’s show to break up the monotony, and they play pretty good stuff, but it’s not quite the same. She tries to remember a few songs, tries to hear them in her mind. Her mind drifts to her brother. He used to sing a lot. He had a beautiful voice. Five could sing too, but not like him. She could sing a song, but he could make you feel it. 

She tries to remember the last time she heard him sing. It was probably some totally insignificant time. He was probably just humming in the kitchen at Passover or something.

Ten. Halfway. 

Disaster. Her ankle turns and she slams to the ground for the second time that day. Pain rockets through her, but she doesn’t think anything is broken or even sprained. She’s just reaching a breaking point. She can’t break halfway.

_ “Can’t do anything halfway. Otherwise we’d all be eating open-faced sandwiches all the time.” _

Dad’s voice in her head. He’d want her to get up. 

She gets up. 

She runs. 

Eleven. 

Twelve. 

Thirteen. 

It hurts. Everything hurts. She stops to throw up. 

Fourteen. 

Fifteen. 

Groans. Wheezing. Zombies nearby. She can’t figure out where they are. She can’t get a sense of it. She could be running directly into them for all she knows. Five kilometers from home and she could be grey at any moment. 

Home. 

Sixteen. 

Abel is home now. Has been for a while. Felt like home pretty quickly, if she’s honest with herself. Home is her little room, the cot with the extra pillow Jody made her for Christmas and the window with the crack in it. Home is the feeling of the kids wanting high fives as she gets ready to go on a run. Home is popping by the comms shack to say hi to Sam. 

But home used to be somewhere else. It used to be shouting at the Olympics with her brother and sister and Grammy’s cholent and summers so humid the air made it feel like every breath drowned her a little. 

Home was thousands of miles - kilometers - away and was never coming back. 

Seventeen. 

Five swings her backpack as hard as she possibly can at a zombie’s arm reaching out toward her. She hears a sickening crack and just keeps running. 

Eighteen. 

So close. 

Nineteen. 

She’s numb. She has to be numb or else she won’t make it. If she gives in, if she lets herself feel everything, she’ll be lost. 

One kilometer to go. 

3,280 feet. 

One foot in front of the other. 

Can’t do anything halfway. 

The tower. 

The lights. 

The gates. 

She realizes too late she has no way to contact anyone or get their attention, to let them know it’s her approaching and not a zombie. The guards would be well within their rights to shoot on sight. 

Wouldn’t that be something, to have run twenty kilometers through zombie territory only to get shot dead just inches from safety?

Twenty. 


	2. Chapter Two

The gates open. 

She runs through, alarms and gunshots and shouts in all directions echoing in her head. 

She’s vaguely aware of the fact that she has fallen to her knees and that several pairs of hands are grabbing at her. She’s much more acutely aware of the fact that she’s sobbing and shaking. She’s not sure when she started crying, but she can’t seem to stop. People are talking to her, but she can’t suss out which voice belongs to which person.

“Five, you’re going to be okay.”

“Have to check for bites.”

“Get the doctor. Fetch the doctor, go.”

“God, the state of her…”

“Five, hey, can you stand?”

“Bloody hell, give her some space, can’t you see she’s upset?”

“Thought she was dead for sure.”

“ _ Five _ _! _ ”

It’s that shout, that voice that snaps her out of it a bit. Not entirely, but enough to lift her head and make eye contact with Sam, whose voice carries all the way from the door of the comms shack. He’s sprinting over, his hair a wreck from where he has been tugging it with stress. Five reaches out for him, and he skids to a stop and grabs her hand. 

“Jesus,” he mutters, looking at her. “I thought you were - we thought -”

“Sam, help me get her to the hospital,” Maxine’s soothing voice cuts in. Five didn’t even notice her arriving. “We need to get her cleaned up and checked out.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate to slip Five’s arm around his shoulders and help Maxine lift her up. Five gasps in pain - all of a sudden the abuse of the night’s run hits her full force. Every scrape, bruise, and blister screams, and she can’t support her own weight for a moment. She would be ashamed of herself if she had the capacity for it. 

It takes a lot of effort, but they manage to get her to the hospital, where Maxine leads them to a cot and helps Sam to deposit Five onto it. Five is so exhausted and shocked by her own survival she doesn’t even realize Maxine is asking her questions. 

“Five,” Sam prompts softly, bringing Five back to the present. 

Five lifts her face to look at Maxine. 

“We need to get you cleaned up and checked for bites and scratches,” Maxine repeats. “I’ll help you, okay?”

Five nods. 

“Let’s get your shoes off first,” says Maxine, and she and Sam both start untying and loosening Five’s shoes. 

When they pull Five’s shoes off, she hears Sam make a startled sound. “Is that -”

“Okay, Five, let’s worry about the rest once you’re in a shower stall,” Maxine interrupts. “Sam, do me a favor and go grab a plastic seat for her. And then if you could run and get some clean clothes?”

“On it,” Sam says, rushing off to do as he’s told. 

By the time Maxine has helped Five limp over to the shower stall, there’s a low stool sitting there, and two of the softer towels have been draped over the stall. Maxine draws the curtain and kneels down to pull off Five’s socks. Five hisses when the socks come off, as the fabric is stuck to parts of her foot where blood has dried from blisters. No wonder Sam was disturbed - the socks are more red than white at this point. She manages to finish undressing and sits heavily back onto the stool as Maxine turns on the water. 

She’s filthy and beat to hell, but mercifully she is bite-free, and any scratches she has don’t appear to be from zombies. All the same, Maxine tells her she’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a day or two, just to be safe and close to quarantine should it become necessary. Five just nods dully. Maxine helps her dry off, then peeks out to see if Sam has delivered a change of clothes. Sure enough, there is a pair of sweatpants, a soft t-shirt, and several pairs of thick socks waiting. There’s also underwear and a sports bra, and if she weren’t in such a state, Five might laugh at the image of Sam rooting in her clothes basket as quickly as possible to get what she needs. He was probably red as a tomato. 

“Just underthings first,” says Maxine. “I need to patch up these cuts and scratches before you finish getting dressed.” 

Five pulls on the underwear and bra and waits for Maxine to bring over the things she needs to work on the blisters covering Five’s feet. Five has a pretty high pain tolerance, but it stings so much she feels tears springing to her eyes, and she whimpers. 

“I’m sorry,” Maxine murmurs. “I’m almost done.”

A hand suddenly appears through the curtain. Sam’s hand. He’s clearly standing with his back to the shower judging by the angle at which his wrist is twisted. Five grabs onto his hand and squeezes gratefully. 

“You okay, Five?” he asks. Five squeezes his hand once in response. “Hang in there, yeah?”

“Okay. All set,” says Maxine, finishing up and setting the bandages aside. “I notice Sam brought several pairs of socks. Very smart. That’ll help provide some cushioning for your feet while they’re healing.” 

“There’s also, um...hang on...Five, sorry, I’ve got to let go of you for a second,” Sam says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it and shuffling around. A moment later, he passes a pair of slippers through the curtain, back still turned. “They’re mine, so they’ll be too big, but I figured with the socks...I dunno, I just thought the more squish, the better, you know?”

Five could have kissed him. She pulls on the socks and slippers, and even though she knows she must look ridiculous, she couldn’t care less. It feels like walking on clouds by comparison. 

“Let’s get you over to a bed and finish up,” says Maxine, helping Five up. “Sam, we’re coming out.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. I’ll just, uh…” Sam stammers, hurrying to get out of the way. He keeps his back turned when Five shuffles out. “I’ll just be here if you need me.”

Five gets settled onto the cot, and Maxine gets to work dressing the cuts and contusions on Five’s side. Sam stands at some distance, rubbing his neck and shifting awkwardly, putting all his attention on the notice board. It’s sweet of him to worry so much, but Five more or less forgot about the concept of modesty about a week into the outbreak. 

Maxine finishes up with the injuries on Five’s stomach and back and gives her the okay to pull her shirt on. Finally, Sam turns to face her, his brows knitting together with worry when he gets a good look at her. Maxine works on Five’s legs as Sam walks over and carefully sits nearby. 

“I’m sorry about the headset,” Five signs. 

Sam shakes his head. “Don’t you worry about that. We can replace headsets.”

“And the bike,” Five continues. “My run was a complete failure.”

“It was not,” insists Sam. “Sometimes things just go belly-up. It’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine. I was the one who thought I could man three runs at once on my own. Lesson learned, I suppose.”

“Sam, you’re overextended,” says Maxine comfortingly. “No one blames you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I don’t blame you,” says Five. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Makes one of us.”

“Five, I think you’re all set. Want your pants?” Maxine offers, holding them out. Both Maxine and Sam help Five stand and pull them on. “Okay. Lie back. I’m going to give you some IV fluids and painkillers so you can sleep.”

“No,” Five signs as Sam translates. “Save them for people who really need them.”

“ _ You  _ need them,” Maxine insists. “No arguments.”

“Don’t always have to be Superman, Five,” says Sam gently. 

Five sighs and leans back against the pillows as ordered. Maxine hands her a couple of pills and a cup of water, then gets to work rigging up an IV. Five watches, knowing how rare and precious the IV’s contents are and feeling guilty for accepting them. Sam seems to pick up on this and tugs the blanket up over her. 

“Can’t pour water from an empty pitcher,” he says. “My mum used to say that. Got to take care of yourself first before you can take care of everyone else.”

Five has to admit he has a point, and she chooses not to request that he practice what he preaches. She settles into the bed and tries to relax. Maxine gives her a smile and a once-over. 

“Just rest now, okay, Five? I’ll be nearby if you need me. Try to get some sleep,” Maxine says, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “And don’t you stay up all night either.”

“I won’t. I won’t,” Sam insists when Maxine raises an eyebrow at him. “Go on, then.”

Maxine shoots him one last warning look, then goes off to take care of someone else. Five lets out a long, slow breath, wishing the painkillers would kick in faster so she could just go to sleep. Ever unable to let silence be, Sam rests his chin in his hand and grins at her. 

“You know something cool? All together, you traveled more than the distance of a marathon today. A  _ marathon _ . I mean, I knew you had endurance, but that...that’s incredible. People would train for years to be able to do half that. From what I remember, a marathon was named that because the man who first ran that distance dropped dead right after. And here you are, fresh as a daisy.”

Five gives him a withering look, which makes his smile go wider. 

“Okay, fresh-ish. You know what I mean, though. You’re...you know. Safe and if not unscathed, at least unbitten. That’s pretty good.”

He has a point, Five has to admit. She manages to return his smile, at least a bit. The pills start to kick in and she feels a slow unwinding in her joints, a relaxation that comes from deep within. 

“There you go,” says Sam, sounding pleased when he sees her eyes starting to droop. “Go on, get some sleep. You’ve earned it and then some. I’ll stay a bit longer.”

Five drifts off to the sound of Sam murmuring, and she dreams of running on a quiet trail, honeysuckle in the air, sunlight through the trees, and only life around her. 


End file.
